by Vivian Wood
I thought that there would be a point of saturation with him, of just having enough of Aiden. But if there is a point, I haven’t found it yet. The two months that we’ve had sex haven’t given me enough of being wrapped in his strong arms, his back as wide as a tree trunk, tangled with him as he moans my name.
We strip away every piece of clothing, afraid to talk too much. Afraid of what will come out of our mouths. Afraid for the future.
Afraid of the blankness and bleakness that the future promises.
So we fuck. Hard but passionate, aggressive but meaningful. Slow but deep. Our orgasms are almost simultaneous, mine seeming almost to trigger his. We finally drift back to planet earth, me pressed against his side, my hair a sweaty wreck. He doesn’t seem to be able to help but place his lips on my skin. He tastes my collarbone, the tender skin at my neck, the pinkness of my hardened nipple. His face as he pushes his mouth against my too-hot skin is bordering on worshipful.
I close my eyes, my fingers tangling in the hair at his temple.
His kisses pause. “I’m not ready to let you go.” Then he brushes his lips over my beating heart, my ribcage, my navel. One, two, three, in quick succession.
My own lips part on a sigh. “So don’t. Not yet.”
“I have to go,” he says.
I crack open my eyes. “What, because Carter says you have to leave right now?” I shake my head. “Don’t do anything today. Please, Aiden.”
He shifts against me and sighs. “But what about tomorrow?”
I stretch up to place a kiss on his lips. “That sounds like a problem for later.”
He makes a frustrated sound. “What am I doing, Olive? Not just with you. But what am I doing like… with my whole life?”
This sounds like a bigger topic than I want to face on my back, so I roll to my side, tugging the blanket up over my naked form. “That is the question that everyone is asking themselves all the time, I think.”
“There is a reason for that.” He frowns, going silent for half a minute. Then he drops a bomb. “What is your plan, Olive?”
My eyebrows could not climb any higher if he’d asked when I plan to go to the moon.
“Me?”
He squints. “Yes. Obviously you.”
That makes me flush a little.
“I don’t know. I guess…” I think for a second. “I know where I want to end up. Does that count?”
“Sure,” he says with a shrug. “Where is that?”
“Well…” I say, choosing my words carefully. “In my mind, I end up working at a library. And living in a little house, like you see on the coast sometimes. And I have a dog and a cat…” I bite my lip. He doesn’t want to hear the part about how in my fantasy, he lives there too, him and our three tow-headed kids.
Aiden nuzzles me. “What else do you want?”
My heart starts beating fast. I’m so terrified to say the wrong thing, even now, when I’m pretty sure he’s asking about who I want in my life.
What if he doesn’t want me the way I want him?
Because I want him forever, full time. No secrets, nobody coming between us. But him? Who even knows what he wants.
In the end, I am too much of a coward to say anything about him or our three kids. I just sigh. “And a big strong man. Um… you know, whoever can… um… fill that role…”
The silence stretches between us as his face darkens. “Whoever, huh?”
Going ten shades of crimson, I push forward. “What do you see long term?”
He rubs a hand over his whole head as he considers that question. “I don’t know. I just… I want to somehow get somewhere that feels… I don’t know. That I’m not fucking things up all the time. I always feel like the entire world is about to know how fucking awful and bad I am, at any moment, if luck turns against me…”
I frown. “You aren’t bad, Aiden. Stop thinking that.”
He casts an eye over me and chuckles. “Funny that you say that, because I am sure that if anybody found out what I’ve been doing here with you, that’s exactly what they would think. Everyone’s worst suspicions would be confirmed.”
I glare at him. “That’s crazy talk. I’m with you because I want to be. It has nothing to do with who my brother is or anything else. You made me fall in love with you, plain and simple—”
I stop, almost choking on my own words.
What did I say?
Did I say I loved him?
Oh god.
Oh god, he looks surprised, which is not the reaction I wanted. Scratch that, I didn't even want to tell him at all….
I try to walk it back. “I didn’t mean—”
Aiden just kisses me, not forcing me to continue to fumble around for words. He doesn’t say I love you too either, he just kisses me tenderly, passionately, like a desperate man searching for a light in the deepening darkness.
“I want to keep you,” he rumbles, his voice gravelly. “I need you, Olive. I am trying to find a way that we can be together more… more permanently.”
“That would mean you have to tell Grayson,” I whisper.
“I know.” He looks like he’s tasting something bitter. “Believe me, I know that.”
And that’s enough for me right now. I kiss him fiercely, with all my heart, my lips moving against his even as my heart flutters at his touch.
35
Aiden
Olivia and I fuck until we are exhausted. We even make love a few times; it’s a palpable difference, touching her because I need her as opposed to just groping her because she’s there and ready.
She’s amazing to me.
Her sighs. Her moans. The way she curls up on her side and makes me spoon her in the space between our fucking. The way she holds my hand, bringing it around her body, snuggling close to me. Like I am the only one that can hold her down in a world gone mad.
That really gets me for some reason.
Fuck. I had no idea that I could feel so much for one small person. I’m enthralled by her. By her honesty, by her wide-eyed confession.
You made me fall in love with you, plain and simple…
But even though I feel something for her, way more than I’ve ever felt for anybody, I can’t say that four letter word.
Love just… is not in my vocabulary.
So we have sex more, instead. I try to make her feel what I feel, try to pour my heart into every kiss and thrust. I don’t know how else to convey how I feel about her since words are apparently just not an option.
I make her come four times before we’re done. The fourth time I’m delirious, thinking…
I love the way Olivia moans my name.
I love the feeling of her nails on my back.
I love being buried so damn deep inside of her that I can’t think straight.
Fuck, maybe I do love her.
But the time for pretty words has passed.
So we sleep, piled together in my bed, sore and tired and emotionally used up.
I dream of camping with my family as a child, the one and only time we went. Eve was barely old enough to walk, but I remember sitting with her at the campfire, pointing to things and naming them for her.
“This is a pinecone,” I tell her.
She looks at me with big eyes and then throws her head back and laughs uproariously, in that joyous way that only toddlers can laugh.
“That’s funny, huh?” I ask.
She giggles, squirming. In the background somewhere, out of my line of sight, I hear my mother and father arguing. I clear my throat, talking a little louder, hoping to distract Eve.
“Do you want to roast a marshmallow?” I ask, picking up the stick I selected earlier for that very reason. “Look, I have a bag of marshmallows here…”
Opening the bag, I let her choose one. My parents’ argument grows louder. I can’t see them, but I know too well exactly what they look like. My father, standing over my mother, a furious look on his face, his finger extended in a scold. And my mother, already in
tears, pleading with him to be quiet.
“Here, you have to put it on the end!” I tell Eve, practically shouting. She slides it on the end of the stick haphazardly and I reward her with a smile. “Good job.” I put my arm around her, urging her toward the fire. “Now you have to hold the stick like this, over the fire…”
Guiding the tip of the stick over the flames, I hear the sound of my father slapping my mother. Gritting my teeth, I shush Eve as she turns around, puzzled.
“Shh, shh, shh. Look at how the marshmallow is getting toasted…”
Staring into the fire, I try to let it take over all my senses. Rather than get angry and confront my dad, which won’t end well for my mother or me, I let the fire entrance me. Feeling its heat, I suck in a deep breath.
The earthy, smoky scent fills my lungs…
Eve looks up at me. “Aiden? Aiden, wake up…”
I startle awake, unsure where I am for a second. It takes a few heartbeats for me to realize that Olivia is in bed beside me, trying to wake me up. She looks a little panicked.
“I’m up,” I say, scrubbing a hand across my face.
Then I smell it. There is a fire nearby, a serious one.
“Aiden,” Olivia starts to say. But I’m already up, sweeping out of the bed, scrambling to find clothes.
“Shit,” I mutter. I pull on a pair of loose basketball shorts, not bothering with a shirt or shoes. Olivia pulls her dress on over her head. “Where is it?”
I’m mostly talking to myself as I run out of the room. I’m amazed to find my stuff is still there, not ablaze.
“I think it might be the main house,” Olivia says. “But you can’t help anyone if you don’t put some shoes on.”
“Fuck,” I mutter.
I turn around and she is waving a pair of my sneakers at me. I grab them and stuff my feet into them; Olivia slips on her shoes too. We run out into the night, seeing the smoke drifting towards us through the trees.
Checking to make sure that Olivia is right on my heels, I warn her. “Stay with me. I don’t want to have to look around and wonder where you are.”
A shiver goes through her, but she nods. I start running through the woods, coughing as I inhale a lungful of the sooty air. As soon as we make it through the trees, I slow to a stop, gaping.
The whole mansion is on fire, burning brightly against the dark night sky. As I stare, a piece of the roof collapses, rolling into the yard. The burning brand lands on the thick grass, the flame turning to smoking embers pretty quickly.
Fuck. My whole legacy is going up in flames, literally before my very eyes.
I feel Olivia slip her hand into mine. “We should check on Margaret,” she says quietly.
Nodding numbly, I pull her in a wide arc around to the front of the house. A siren wails in the distance; someone has apparently called the fire department. Over here the fire isn’t as bad. There is smoke rolling up out the open front door, but at least it’s not visibly on fire.
Maybe not for that long, though.
I spot Margaret on the lawn in a white nightgown, staring sadly up at the house. As soon as she sees us she waves frantically.
“Carter!” she shouts, her voice gone hoarse. “Please make sure Carter gets out! He ran back inside to save the lockbox…”
I look up at the front porch, then to Olivia. Olivia is headed to where Margaret is, not paying me a bit of attention. So I swallow my fear and head up to the house. Even before my feet hit the front porch steps I can feel the heat; it’s shooting out the front door like a furnace, greedily gobbling up the fresh oxygen outside.
Shielding my face with my bare forearm, I head inside. The heat only increases with every step I take. Once I’m in the door, I see that the fire is raging upstairs on the second floor. Everywhere I turn there is smoke, making me cough and irritating my lungs and throat. The stairway that leads upstairs is hardly visible through the billows of smoke that pour down from the landing.
Please don’t let Carter need me to go up there. That’s a death trap for sure.
As soon as I think that, I hear someone coughing downstairs. Ducking around the smoke, trying to keep my breathing clear by putting my elbow in front of my face, I head down the hallway toward the library.
As soon as I get to the doors, I find Carter just inside. He’s in a plaid robe with no shoes, coughing as he tries to climb the ladder on the wall.
“Carter!” I yell.
He coughs again, flapping his hand at me. “Go!”
“No! Come on!” I insist.
He shakes his head, determined, and continues up the ladder.
I am dripping with sweat by now. I mumble a curse.
Coughing, I step inside the library, realizing with alarm that the fire has made its way to the top left corner. Once it reaches the books they will all be gone in a matter of minutes; the library is kindling for the fire, without question.
I have to get Carter out of here and out of the house. I squint up at what he is trying to get. Then I still.
Our father’s box. It’s gone from where it was, the hole obvious to me, but Carter doesn’t know that. He coughs again, so violently that time that he nearly falls off the ladder. I can actually feel the heat grow more intense, feel sweat coursing down my back.
“I—” I break off, coughing convulsively. Carter looks back and I try again. “I got that! The box! Come on!”
Carter levels a glare at me, but I just shake my head. “You are looking for your dad’s box! Okay? I have it. Just come on, come outside.”
He glances anxiously back at the shelves before him, then slowly starts to descend the ladder. “You’d better actually have the box—”
His foot slips. I start toward him at the same time as the ceiling starts to crumble. I look up right as the first big pieces of the ceiling fall right down onto us.
I don’t know how I did it, honestly. But something in me made me spring up, grab Carter by the ankle, and pull him out of the way as a big ceiling beam comes crashing down. I wrench him out of the way, but not fast enough.
Both of us are trapped for a few seconds by the cindery log, which falls right between us. Those few seconds are damaging, searing my hand where I make contact with it. I yank my hand away, cradling it close.
Fuck. Fuck!
It hurts so goddamn bad. The skin on the pad of my hand is charred, the smell of burning flesh overwhelming my senses. For a second, my mouth waters in the way that signals that I’m going to be sick.
Carter pulls at me. “Come on!”
He does a complicated dance around the flaming pieces of the ceiling, heading for the door. I copy him dumbly, my hand throbbing, my mouth still watering. We make it out of the library just as something crashes behind me.
I don’t look back, though.
Running through the hallway and out of the front door, I collapse as soon as I feel soft ground under my feet once more. I hear Olivia come running up, her breathing almost stopping for a second.
“You’re okay?” she whispers as she bends down and touches my shoulder.
I cough and choke, but nod at the same time. Then she surprises me by pinching me.
“I’m so mad at you,” she says. “You could’ve died, Aiden.”
Her hostile expression isn’t one I will soon forget.
But I didn’t, I think. I can’t say anything though, because talking seems to trigger my coughing. I clutch her hand instead.
Then we’re interrupted by the arrival of the fire department, the wail of its siren louder than anything else.
36
Olivia
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
I look over at the machine that beeps steadily, glaring at it a little. For the last few hours I’ve been stationed here at Aiden’s bedside, and that entire time the machine has beeped. I sigh and look back at Aiden, who was finally sedated a few hours ago. The doctor came in to treat his burned hand and didn't love the fact that Aiden was being a man-baby a
bout it. The next thing I know, she has him sedated and is debriding his wound in silence.
I stand and stretch, feeling exhausted. It’s morning now, the light just beginning to creep and stain everything it touches at the hospital window. Last night was chaos.
Aiden and Carter came sprinting out of the house, collapsing raggedly to the ground. Then everything seemed to happen at lightning speed.
My heart started beating again, when I was afraid that it never would.
Breathless, I checked on them, and found them both alive. But they each had a serious burn, Aiden on his left hand, Carter on his right foot.
I could kill Aiden for running into that house, but now isn’t the time.
The fire department finally came, a million firemen swarming the entire front yard. Margaret sat on the rig, sucking oxygen into her burned lungs. An ambulance came and took Aiden and Carter first. Then a second ambulance arrived, whisking Margaret and me to St. Luke’s.
Now it’s hours later, and I’m groggily wondering if there is coffee to be had nearby.
There is a knock at the sliding glass door. I turn, expecting it to be one of the nurses, whom I have begged to keep me in the loop about Margaret and Carter. But to my surprise, Grayson pokes his head in the room.
He looks at me, relief washing over his features. “Oh, thank god. No one could tell me if you were okay.”
My eyes tear up. I open my arms for him to comfort me. Grayson does come over and give me a hug, albeit briefly. He’s awkward as he pats me on the back and then steps back.
He clears his throat. “How is Aiden?”
I turn my gaze to the man sleeping in the hospital bed. He looks funny, all arms and legs, the thin blanket covering him. He’s still not wearing a shirt.
A lucky jerk, is my first response. I clench my fists and shake my head.
“He’s okay. They had to give him something to make him sleep. Otherwise I think he would still have that burn untreated.”
I point to the gauze on his left hand. Grayson winces. “Ouch.”
